The Dragon Pool: The Dragon Pool (9 page)

Anastasia nodded. "Yes. I do."

"Bollocks!" Dr. Conrad said. "And I suppose he was wearing some sort of monster mask every time he came into camp? The man you and Danovich and the others spotted was disfigured, Stacie, you said so yourself."

"Hideous," she replied, and Hellboy was troubled by the disquiet in her voice. "He had fire burning in his eyes."

"You mean they glowed?" Professor Bruttenholm asked.

"No," Anastasia said, shaking her head. "I mean they were on fire. Flames flickered from his eyes like...have you ever seen a building on fire, the way the blaze shoots up from the burned out windows? Like that."

Hellboy stared at her. "So, when you said you had reason to believe he was a shape-shifter?"

"What I saw wasn't a mask. Danovich will tell you the same. This thing wasn't human. But the young man I saw--handsome lad. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, except that bloodstain on his shirt."

"He could have gotten that a thousand ways. You don't even know it was blood!" Conrad protested.

"It was blood," Lao said, and from the way Anastasia and Conrad glanced at him, Hellboy had the impression the man from Beijing was being downright verbose with them tonight in comparison to his usual MO.

Professor Bruttenholm crossed his arms. This time when Hellboy went to him, he allowed himself to be escorted to a chair and slid down into it gratefully, deep in thought.

"Tell me, Dr. Bransfield," the professor said, stiffly formal. "How does this legend end? Such bits of folklore always have a colorful ending."

"This one is no different. An order of monks refused to serve the Dragon King. He burned many of them and threatened to destroy them all if they would not worship him. But among them was a monk who was a warrior and sorcerer, though small in stature. A dwarf."

"A dwarf," Hellboy repeated.

"Yes," Anastasia said, glaring admonishment at him.

Hellboy shrugged. "Just saying."

"His name was Dwenjue. He posed as a child and was thrown into the lake by the subjects of the Dragon King. Dwenjue battled the dragon for seven days and seven nights, and slew the dragon...or at least wounded it mortally and trapped it forevermore. From that day on, the area became prosperous, and the people were happy. At least...that's the legend."

Professor Bruttenholm mumbled something that might have been "interesting." Mr. Lao only watched the interplay with cool, distant eyes. Dr. Conrad shook his head in disbelief. Hellboy and Anastasia found they could not hold one another's gaze for very long without looking away.

"Okay, let's see what we've got," Hellboy said at last, just to be saying something. "Sabotage guy, who might be a shape-shifter, fire coming out of his eyes kinda suggesting dragon-boy. Village protecting him, or maybe actually clueless. Either way, that's a problem. Missing girl, in a place where they used to drown kids sacrificially to appease the local bully."

Alarm flared in Anastasia's eyes. "Please don't say that out loud again. Professor Kyichu is holding out every hope. I'm sure he's thought of it himself, but until we know for sure--"

Hellboy held up his left hand. He almost told her not to get her knickers in a twist. Any other English-woman, he might have. But this was Anastasia.

"Relax. Not another word. Besides, I've got a feeling the kid's still alive."

Anastasia frowned. "I hope you're right, but what makes you say that?"

"Hey, nobody's used that preparatory chamber in how many centuries? Could be why they've been trying so hard to keep you from opening it up. Maybe that's all part of the deal."

Professor Bruttenholm twisted around in his seat and stared at Hellboy. Anastasia covered her mouth in horror.

"What'd I say?" Hellboy asked.

"Something logical."

He shrugged. "Give enough monkeys enough typewriters, you get Shakespeare, or something like that. I'm just saying if somebody wants to worship the Dragon King the old way, they'd have to use that chamber, right?"

"It does make sense," Dr. Conrad said, though it was obvious the words pained him.

"So if no one's been in there with the kid yet, then she's probably still breathin'."

Anastasia started to swear under her breath, then shot him a hard look. "Are you suggesting that the saboteur was trying to stop us so that...you're saying by opening the chamber, we may have somehow set those old rituals in motion again, that we've woken something--"

She was interrupted by a flap of canvas, then Abe Sapien walked into the tent, dripping with water from the lake.

"Abe," Professor Bruttenholm said, staring at the amphibious man intently. "Did you discover anything?"

All eyes were on him, and Abe looked at Conrad and Lao warily. Hellboy gestured for him to speak.

"Nothing. It's very dark, Professor, but I don't think the morning will show me anything either. No sign of ruins. No creatures other than fish. No bodies. Nothing but loose soil and a few plants. I've never seen a lake bottom so bare."

"Another puzzle," Professor Bruttenholm said.

"There is one odd thing," Abe added.

Hellboy didn't like the way he said it.

"What're you talking about, Abe?" he asked.

"The lake...it's cold at first, what you would expect. But as I went deeper, the water felt warm. There's heat coming from somewhere down there, as though there might be a volcanic fissure beneath the lake. I saw no sign of--"

"No," Anastasia said. "There's no volcanic activity on this plateau."

Hellboy saw the idea illuminate her features. Even Lao reacted, eyes narrowing with dark worry. Conrad only looked confused.

"Well," Professor Bruttenholm said, "obviously, something must be providing that heat."

Hellboy stared at Anastasia.

"I think we need a plan."

The Island of Crete, 6 April, 1980

"Nice place. Kind of a change of pace."

Anastasia turned and smiled at him from the balcony. Hellboy stood in the airy living room of the villa that the British Museum had provided for them on the outskirts of Anoyeia. White curtains billowed in the breeze like some kind of princess's dream or a bad coffee commercial. Any minute, Hellboy expected to see unicorns--or a Colombian guy in a bad hat with a burro.

"It's beautiful," Anastasia agreed. "Come out here."

Hellboy hesitated only a moment before stepping out to join her, careful not to break the tiles with his hooves. The view was spectacular. In one direction they could see St. John's Church, and in the other, the peak of Mount Ida.

"Quite romantic, don't you think?"

Hellboy cocked his head, knitting his brow. "Not much of a romantic. Not really built for it, you know? They don't paint guys like me on the covers of those novels."

Anastasia slid her arm around him, forcing him to do the same. She nuzzled against his chest, and something inside him hesitated. Her touch was so soft. Holding her was like holding a bird in his hands. He liked to feel her heart beat against his chest when she lay next to him in bed, and the way she looked at him...these were all new experiences for him. Hellboy had always thought he was prepared for anything, would walk blindly into any trap, stand toe to toe with any danger. But he hadn't been prepared for this.

"You don't fool me," she whispered, reaching up to undo the knot of hair at the base of his skull, teasing it with her fingers. "Don't ever think you can."

"I'll keep it in mind," he said, looking down at her, smiling what he knew was a brutal, almost indecipherable smile. "How do we warrant this VIP treatment, anyway?"

Anastasia shrugged. "The museum likes the work I've been doing. They like having you associated with them, even unofficially. Since this dig is Dr. Campbell's baby, and we're only here to assist until they get the funding up for my Iceland dig, they don't need us on the site."

"I could get used to it. Iceland, on the other hand--"

She bumped him with her hip and gazed up at him. "It's beautiful there. You're going to love it."

Hellboy laughed softly. "Is that an order?"

"It is."

"Yes, mistress."

"Bloody well right."

Delicious aromas of Greek cooking wafted up from the village. The spring air felt a bit cool, but Hellboy relished it. Anastasia had taken him to some remote areas of the world in the time they'd been together--which was nearly every day since they'd met in that pub in London--but there seemed to be beauty everywhere. Maybe just having something to do besides hunt monsters and ghosts and debunk legends made him see the world differently. Oh, there'd been a fair share of supernatural encounters since they'd gotten together--that crap seemed to follow him around, and the BPRD still tried to keep him busy when they could, sending him on jobs in the areas where Anastasia was already working--but places like Mount Ida made it all worthwhile.

"We need spinach pie," he announced.

Anastasia slipped out from under his arm. "Spinach pie it is. Just as soon as we're unpacked."

"Is that my stomach growling or impending volcanic eruption?"

"All right," she said, rolling her eyes. "Spinach pie first."

He didn't smile. Squeezing his eyes closed, he brought his left hand up to his face and felt himself sway.

"Hey. You okay?"

Anastasia's voice seemed distant and muffled. He frowned as he looked at her.

"Yeah. I think so. Head feels a little oogy all of a sudden, like I had too much ouzo last night."

"You did have too much ouzo last night."

Hellboy nodded, trying not to ruin the lighthearted moment they'd been sharing. "Yeah. But I didn't have it for breakfast. Anyway, it'll pass."

Concern lined her face. "You want to lie down a while?"

"No, no. I'm good. Just give me a minute."

Hellboy turned away from Anastasia, not liking her troubled expression...not wanting her to see the expression he knew must be on his own face. They'd been together almost a year, so maybe she didn't notice, but he didn't get sick. No flu. No colds. No fevers. The only thing that ever affected him was sorcery. And sorcerers pissed him off.

His tail dragged across the terra-cotta tiles as he walked across the living room and into the bathroom, trying to figure out if he was swaying, or his equilibrium just felt off. He hoped Anastasia hadn't noticed.

In the bathroom he turned on the tap and let cold water run into the sink. When he bent to splash water onto his face, the whole world tilted around him. Hellboy fell. He reached out to steady himself, enormous right hand closing on the edge of the sink, which shattered. As he collapsed, he pulled the sink with him, breaking it off the wall. The mirror above it exploded in a shower of reflective shards. Water spurted from the pipes behind the sink, quickly pooling on the floor.

The dizziness pulled him down into darkness.

Cold water sprinkled his face. He blinked and opened his eyes, and the world was gray around him. The smell of the water and his own musky odor filled his nostrils. Hellboy shook his head and pulled his legs beneath him, standing unsteadily.

He breathed deeply, straightening up, and kept one hand on the wall as he left the bathroom, mirror fragments crunching under his hooves. In the living room, he paused a moment and glanced around. The world hadn't turned gray...the day had turned to evening. Dusk had arrived.

"Stasia?" he whispered, glancing around. The suitcases lay on the huge king-size bed, just as he'd left them, open but still packed.

A frisson of fear went through him, not for himself, but for her. For them. He spun and looked out through the curtains at the balcony. The dusk had a rosy glow--not long at all since the sun had gone down. Moments, really. In that glow, he saw the silhouette standing out on the balcony, and relief flooded through him.

"Damn, you gave me a scare," he said. He strode toward the balcony doors.

The silhouette shifted and became clear.

It was not Anastasia.

Fists clenching, Hellboy froze just inside the doors and stared at the man on the balcony. The first thing he noticed was the glowing orange tip of the cigarette the man held down at his side, nearly cupped in his palm. A trail of smoke curled upward, though Hellboy felt sure the cigarette had not been there a moment before.

He had olive skin and raven black hair, but his features might have been Middle Eastern or Egyptian or Greek. His large pupils glowed with the same heat as the tip of his cigarette. He dressed with casual elegance, in a beige linen suit and a cotton shirt, open at the neck.

Hellboy spent his days and nights trying to ignore the reaction most people had to his presence. There were positives and negatives to his infamy, but perhaps the best thing about being a public figure was that, more often than not, people knew whom they were seeing when they encountered him for the first time. The ones who'd never heard of him--they were the ones that troubled him the most.

They reminded him, every day. He didn't have to look in a mirror to see that he wasn't like most people, that he could be terrifying to behold. All he needed was the looks on the faces of the people he encountered. And when they realized he and Anastasia were together--together--it was that much worse.